


where the new flowers bloom

by woojinisms



Series: to define is to limit [2]
Category: Produce 101 (TV), X1 (Korea Band)
Genre: 2seung if u squint, Canon Compliant, Han Seungwoo-Centric, Light Angst, introspective, me vs avoiding dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 09:42:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19990045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woojinisms/pseuds/woojinisms
Summary: springtime (n.): the season of spring. [literary] the early part or first stage of something; of fresh beginnings and starting anew, rebirth.





	where the new flowers bloom

_Let the rain that’s become clouds fly up to the sky again,_

_And the flower petals that have fallen become soil,_

_From which new flowers can bloom._

* * *

  
It’s been an hour now, since the festivities have halted. His ears still ring with the sound of screaming crowds, and every time he closes his eyes he can see the tears on his friends’ faces. His head is spinning, the events of just less than an hour ago still not quite sinking in. “X1…,” Seungwoo mutters to himself, hand pressed against the wall to his left, keeping him upright. 

It feels like a lie, but Seungwoo knows it’s a truth he’ll have to accept, before he drowns in this half-baked reality that he’s become enveloped in. 

The waiting room has quieted down a little bit, becoming a contained sort of organized chaos since the top twenty were ushered off stage. The other trainees soon followed, neatly filing backstage amidst the chatter and loud congratulations between trainees, staffs, and trainers. Friends and family had flocked to those who’d been called up as one of the eleven: some of them rushed to take pictures, tear-streaked faces covered with bright smiles, and some, still overwhelmed with the fluttering feeling, fought to find balance among their loved ones’ well wishes. 

Seungwoo weaves through the crowd, making his way to find somewhere quieter. The air is thick, filled with electricity, and though he’s happy for everyone, he can’t help but feel heavy inside. 

He knows he’s not ready to face his family yet, so he finds a wall near which to linger as he gives them time to greet the other parents and trainees, and to extend their thanks to the staff and trainers. 

Dongpyo approaches him first, slowly leaving Eunsang and Junho behind. As he nears Seungwoo, each step gentler than the last, his bright eyes become soft, and he clasps Seungwoo’s sweaty hand in his smaller ones. “Congratulations hyung,” he says, the look in his shining eyes betraying his words. _I’m sorry,_ they say. 

Seungwoo offers a smile, as reassuring as he can muster. _What do you have to be sorry about? It’s not your fault, it never was._

He doesn’t want Dongpyo to know that he feels helpless, but he supposes his efforts are in vain anyways, since the younger has proven time and time again that he’s sharper that he looks, and that he knows Seungwoo’s heart better than he lets on.

So, he lets him. He lets Dongpyo hold him tightly, more for Seungwoo’s sake than his own. 

They stay like that, for a moment, Seungwoo’s much too large hands clutched between Dongpyo’s, before he snakes himself away, and turns the eighteen year-old back to the crowd, patting his butt. 

“Go greet your family. I’ll still be here later.” 

Dongpyo brightens at that, and gives him a brief hug before running off to find his parents. 

He stills, and watches Dongpyo slip between taller trainees as he returns to his loved ones. Smiling to himself, Seungwoo feels himself melt a little at the pride that washes over him every time he sees the younger kid. To Seungwoo, it’s like just moments ago that he introduced himself in front of everyone as “DSP Media trainee Son Dongpyo”, lisp obvious and eyes bright with wonder. 

(He doesn’t want Dongpyo to know, although he’s probably picked up on it already, that maybe, between the two of them, it’s Seungwoo who’s slowly grown to become reliant on his brightness, on his emotions that he doesn’t try so hard to hide.

There’s maturity, lots of it, written in the battle scars of his youth.) 

As soon as Dongpyo's gone, Seungwoo can feel his knees weaken. 

So he slides down onto the nearest bench, and clutches at the fabric of his jacket near the small metal plaque with the characters “Han Seung Woo” engraved into its surface. His name is carved into the steel rectangle, like all these moments on _Produce X 101_ that he isn’t able to take back. 

Leaning his head against the wall behind him, all Seungwoo can feel is that he’s being foolish. _Foolish. Foolish._

_This is the second chance I shouldn’t receive. That I don’t deserve._

Seconds fall away like hours before he feels someone slowly lower themself into the spot next to him. Seungwoo doesn’t need to turn to look at him to know it’s Jinhyuk, doesn’t need to see his face to feel guilty. 

He tries to tell him he’s sorry, but the words get caught in his throat, and never leave his moving lips. 

Seungwoo can feel Jinhyuk shift in the space next to him, but he decides to remain still until the other breaks the silence. 

“Congratulations,” he says. Jinhyuk’s voice is even, something sturdy in the rainstorm Seungwoo feels like he’s been caught in, and he lets out a breath he doesn’t know he’s was holding.

“Yeah.” 

Jinhyuk lets out a breath of a laugh, and turns towards Seungwoo. “You don’t need to step on glass like that. It’s fine. I’m fine.” 

“Sorry.”

Jinhyuk waves it away, and instead responds with a “You’re the hero; write your own story.” He mirrors Seungwoo, leaning his head back against the wall, and stares up at the ceiling. “This isn’t where it ends. You have a lot in front of you.”

Seungwoo chuckles. “We’re not dying.” 

“And that’s exactly it. We’re not,” he states, before patting Seungwoo on his shoulder and easing himself out of his seat. Seungwoo marvels at the action, and watches him leave. It’s a lot to take in, the ocean of meanings hidden in the few words of someone caught in a parallel situation to his own. Worlds away, and yet, somehow right in front of him. 

Twenty-six hasn’t been kind to him, so far, and neither have the years twenty-five or twenty-four, but he keeps his head up anyways, and searches the ceiling for something else, for flowers to bloom or fruit to ripen. 

It’s not long before he sees his mom step out of the crowd and head toward him. She looks like home, like everything he left behind in Busan, and he feels himself become engulfed in her warmth as he steps forward to embrace her. 

He should be happy, he knows, but he can’t help but feel like his chest is being compressed, like he’s being stepped on from the inside out. It doesn’t feel real; feels like Seungwoo’s underwater, like the air in his lungs is being sucked out of him. His eyes burn, but he wills himself not to let his walls crumble, and instead takes a deep breath.

His neck is wet with tears within seconds, so he pulls himself back so he can look his mom in her eyes. 

(It’s not what he expects, for he knows they never wanted a second celebrity in the family. 

It’s too burdensome, has always been too burdensome, but there are moments of relief in between that maybe, just maybe, make it worth the struggle.)

“Seungwoo-yah,” his noona says from behind his mom. “Congratulations.” She offers him a warm smile, and it’s genuine this time, free of the “sorry”’s he’s been seeing in the eyes of those around him. 

(And Seungwoo feels lighter, happier, because she knows he doesn’t want to be an object of pity, not now, not here. Maybe somewhere else, some other time, when he’s ready to let the water flood through.)

The rest of it is a blur, not quite real to him that his mom and his sister made the trip in from Busan, not quite real that his father and Sunhwa couldn't, both busy with work. They send their congrats through his mom, and he’s sure it won’t be long before he recieves a Kakaotalk message from the two of them.

(He doesn’t know what he’s waiting for, but deep down he’s hoping that Seungsik calls him soon, or that Sejun sends him a video message through their Kakaotalk group.)

He doesn’t get what he hopes for, not now, and maybe not later, but he does feel Yohan’s presence lingering over him, hand oustretched and smile wide, so he reaches out and pulls himself out of the deep end. 

“Hyung! Hyung, we’re debuting together!” His tone is a celebratory one, laced with sincerity and excitement at being able to stand on stage with him, and Seungwoo can’t help but smile. He can see it; he can see Yohan pouring every bit of himself into the moment, holding tight to what he feels in his now. It’s made obvious in the crinkles of his smile, and Seungwoo feels himself falling, because this is what beginning feels like. 

His heart is bursting in his chest, but this time, it’s not because he feels like he’s running out of oxygen. 

Minhee moves in to congratulate Seungwoo too, Hyeongjun following close behind. Minhee wears his heart on his sleeve, expressing everything he feels with genuinity, if the way he clutches to the back of Seungwoo’s jacket as he envelops him in a hug is any sort of a tell. 

Hyeongjun’s smile is soft and sweet, shining eyes making contact with his and not daring to let go. He moves in for a hug too, and Seungwoo feels warmth fill him to the brim as Hyeongjun whispers a soft “Congratulations, hyung,” into his chest. There’s strength in him, too, a soft flame that Seungwoo finds himself clinging to. 

And this is what it is. 

He holds on to that, the burning warmth, sews his heart onto the cuff of his shirt sleeve, and excuses himself. 

Seungwoo makes his way over to the other corner of the room, footsteps filled with certainty, and slips his hand into Seungyoun’s when he reaches his destination. Seungyoun eyes are filled with surprise when he sees him, but quickly soften into something else as he grips Seungwoo’s hand in his own and pulls him into his embrace. 

“Congratulations.” 

Seungwoo just barely catches Seungyoun’s breath in his ear, but he’s glad he does, and holds him tigher in his grasp. 

These are the things that Seungwoo knows:

He knows the sky does not cloud over, thick with grey and almost black, at these moments. He is sure that lightning and thunder do not rain down on him, do not rain down on them, because it is not the springtime torrent he expects. 

Seungwoo can feel himself breathe, and this is what it feels like to start again, for the rain shower to clear away the smoke. 

The middle of July is not spring, and summer is not the season from which new flowers bloom, but Seungwoo manages to swallow his unsteadiness and return the “Congratulations,” with a firm “Thank you.” 

(They’ll be together, and five years is a long time to be together for, but Seungwoo does not count his losses. Instead, he plants flowers in the things that are and the things that could be.)

**Author's Note:**

> it's been a long run, hasn't it? 
> 
> (thank u sen for helping me get through this <3) 
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/hsw_MP3)


End file.
